Fate
by Silent Singer
Summary: A young woman from the 21st century finds out what fate really means to her when she finds herself in a strange country, battling society, divine prophecies and her views of life.
1. Chapter 1 While she was dreaming

Fate 

Chapter 1 While she was dreaming

Disclaimer: Everything belonging to **Tolkien** is **Tolkien**. Everything from my own

imagination is mine.

_I dreamed I was running._

_I was running from something, fast and far._

_I just wanted to get as far away as I could._

_A terrible fear gripped me, something I could not comprehend._

She woke up with a start and sat upright in her bed. She had dreamed something but it was slipping away fast. All she remembered was her pounding heart.

She leaned forward and rapped her arms around her knees.

For days now, she had felt emptiness in her heart that she did not understand. Like she had lost something explicitly valuable. She turned her head to the side, taking in her dark surroundings. Her room was as it always was a desk and cupboard propped against the wall to her left. The door in the wall in front of her, leading to her bathroom, was open a crack. To her right a small bookshelf leaned against the wall, and a bedside table was next to her bed with an alarm clock glaring the time in red numbers. Everything was the same.

She didn't feel tired even though she had gone to bed very late that evening. She didn't even try going back to sleep. She got out of bed and opened the door next to her bookshelf leading to the lounge and dining room. It was not a very large room. It had just enough space to jam a small table, with enough room for four, into the left corner of the room, and a small couch and TV into the right. She did not bother switching on the light, she knew exactly where her few possessions lay, and went strait to the couch, colourless in the dark.

She switched on the television, a news speaker appeared. He was standing in front of a house in some far away city, speaking of a man who had been killed a couple of days before. She pulled a cushion from beside herself and hugged it tightly. It was not fare, she thought. Why didn't the murderer think of the people the man left behind, a wife perhaps, and children? A silent tear trickled down her face, as she thought of the injustice in the world.

Suddenly the darkness of her room pressed hard on her and she felt very alone. Almost as if everyone had left her. She knew very well, of course, that this was not so. She had her very loving, and sometimes very annoying family that did not live far away. She had the best friends one could ask for and the best job in the world. But at just that moment, in her dark living room, she felt very, very alone in deed.

Shaking her head, as if to rid it from the dark and depressing thoughts, she switched of the TV and got up again. She would not be able to sleep that night she knew it. With a sigh she walked towards her room and switched on the light. She looked around again, just in case she would see something different, something that was missing, but everything was as it always was.

She walked towards her cupboard and pulled out some clothes she could wear to work. She had no set working times, as long as she worked for a set amount of hours a day and was there when meetings were held.

She laid the clothes on her unmade bed and went into the bathroom to shower. A row of images passed through her mind whilst she stood under the water. A beautiful garden, rich with flowers and trees, almost like a forest. Mountains on the horizon with peeks hidden by clouds. An abandoned swing hanging from the branches of an ancient tree. She smiled at the thoughts, though she did not recognise any of the pictures. She got out of the shower, dried herself and walked back into her room to get dressed.

She was old, she thought, putting on her underwear. 27 and she still did not have a proper boyfriend. Of course there had been the stray few with whom she had had her first sexual experiences. But if she was honest with herself, she had always known that none of them were Mr Right, the man with whom she wanted to spend the rest of her mortal life. No, and even worse she had always felt so bad after doing it, as though she had betrayed… who? Herself? Mr Right? She could not quite tell. She buttoned her blouse as she shrugged off these peculiar feelings. Feelings she had not felt for a long time.

She opened her cupboard for a second time and looked at her reflection in the mirror of the door. Sun bleached hair, brown eyes, freckles, gosh how she hated those freckles, but otherwise she looked quite good. Well as good as one could at 4 o'clock in the morning. She stuck out her tongue at her reflection and chuckled. Even at 27 she was still too immature to think of a family, no it was best this way. She nodded at her reflection, affirming her outfit, and turned towards her desk. There she had her bag with all the work she should have finished the evening before, and her keys.

Picking both up she headed towards her front door. There she pulled on her working shoes (uncomfortable little buggers!), checked that all the lights were off, and strode out the door of her small apartment in the second story of the house.

She hummed a little tune on her way down the stair and had regained a little happy feeling when she approached her car. It did not however last very long. A sharp pain went through her head two steps in front of her car and she instinctively shut her eyes. Not another headache, she thought, bringing her hand up to her head. She held her eyes shut until the throbbing had passed away a little. The sharp pain in her head, however, was exchanged for a sharp pain in her arm.

"What the-," she uttered, looking up sharply to the person who had snatched her arm, and was now grasping rather painfully.

Any curse, though, was blown away from her thoughts by the sight of what she had only ever seen in movies before.

"Now, what would a little bitch like yerself be doing all alone in a deserted part of Middle Earth like this?" The man was filthy, she noticed, dirt smeared all over his face and clothes, and a disgusting smirk showed rows of rotting teeth. She moved back, impulsively but did not get very far. "Now, now, yer would not be scared by the good old Buff, would yer?" He sniggered and his smirk widened, betraying what he really thought.

It occurred to her that the language he spoke seemed rawer than the English she was used to, but her disgust of the stench that wafted over to her combined with the fear she was feeling made that slight notion fade into thing air.

" 'Ey Buff," called a second man, she had not noticed yet, from somewhere behind her. " 'Ere, this one 'as yellow 'air. Aint that what's asked for on the market? Donnet make 'er somfing valuable?" She heard the smirk in his voice, and felt his hand go through her hair, and her disgust rose to a level she had never thought possible.

Then again, she had never thought it possible that men this filthy would be straying in front of her house. A strange quirk irked her at that moment, it was a bit darker than usual, was there not always a lamp on in front of her house? The only light she could see from her position, without moving, was the moonlight. And was it not a bit quite, even in her semi-suburban part of the city? Her stomach turned horrible, something was definitely not right.


	2. Chapter 2 Set her free

Fate 

Chapter 2 Set her free

_I dreamed I was running._

_I was running fast. _

_I had seen something I should not have seen._

Her head jerked up. She wished she had not. A searing pain shot from her shoulder and left her dazed. Her working pans were ripped at the thighs and her hands bound. She was sitting on top of a horse. In front of another very, very filthy man.

She wondered how she had got into this situation. What exactly had brought her, in the blink of a headache, into a foreign country? What was it called again? But she could not think properly. The pain, coming in waves from her back, stopped her from being able to think normally, and always kept her on the verge of unconsciousness. The situation was stupid, she thought snorting and in the same moment regretting she had done so.

They had done something to her, she recalled vaguely. Someone had hit her, or rather slammed something against her back. That was when the pain started. Sending her in and out of a state of semi-consciousness. How long she had been travelling with these revolting men, and what exactly had happened to her during this time was a secret only those creatures, for they did not behave in a way she would categorise as human, knew.

Even when she had first encountered them she did not have a lot of time to figure out what was happening. She recalled a vast space of land, and fear, before she could not think anymore. She could guess the vile men were slave traders. It made her sick just to think about it.

She felt helpless, in her present state and she hated it. But as far as she could think, and that really was not very far, there was nothing she was able to do for herself. She could not jump off the horse; if she did that she would most probably break every bone in her body, not to mention she could not think, let alone stand. And that was as far as she had got.

She looked up groggily and saw on the horizon mountains, the peeks of which were shrouded by clouds. She did not register very much of what she saw. She only felt pain. She imagined what it would be like if she died; painless, she thought. Something in her registered faintly that the sun was rising.

She wished she knew where she was. It would be useful, she thought, if she wanted to get away. But first she would have to get that seized-up muscle in her back to loosen up. Maybe, she thought, they had pinched it, sadistic bastards. Yes, and now she had a huge bruise on her back. But would that hurt as much, she wondered as her head swung from side to side, almost melodically, she thought, though there was no melody she could think of.

She decided to stop thinking, because it did not work anyway, and stared at the horses black mane instead. Her hair used to be dark, she thought. If it had been dark still, maybe they would have left her behind. But no, she had wanted to go to a sunny, hot place for the holidays. She had wanted to spend ¾ of her days outside, and she had actually liked the change from her otherwise dull brown hair.

From somewhere far away a voice trailed to her, she noticed they had stopped, "…women?" They must mean her, she thought, and it occurred to her that she should say something. "Just me sister," Buff said. Who was Buff again, she wondered, ah yes, the mean, stinking man who had squeezed her arm, sadistic bastard.

"And where are you bringing her?" the strange voice asked again, the strange voice seemed nicer than the stinking men. She smiled weekly at this thought. She really ought to say something. "The next 'ealer," Buff replied, "she 'as an awful backache." Now that was not entirely right, she thought, she definitely was not his sister. But her back did ache.

"The next healer is in Imladris," the strange voice replied, "You are going in the wrong direction." There was a short silence following this. Im-what, she wondered. But he did have a nice voice, something tingling about it. "Well, yer see, we dunt trust 'em strange 'ealers. 'Specially not wif me sister. No offence 'tended."

She would have to say something, she urged herself, but it did not seem to be enough urging. She got her eyes away from the horse's mane though.

Her head swam. Just keep on swimming, she imagined swimming in the ocean and a fish bit her back. A little blue fish with big, round eyes. Her head started rolling again as black edges started impairing her vision.

"…should not go so far!" the strange voice said again, and she caught a glimpse of what looked like a man, but she could not entirely tell, it could be a troll for all she could see. Her eyes lost focus again. Maybe she should mention her lack of willingness to go along with the sadistic bastards of men. Maybe she should just fall off the horse. Maybe breaking an arm by doing so would lessen the pain in her back. Okay, she thought sliding to the side.

Unfortunately the man behind her had been placed there just for such a reason, and he stopped her slide before she could topple off the horse.

Bugger, she thought, and tried the other side, forgetting that the man had two arms.

"…not allow you…! ….Insist… go to Im…!" That was right, she thought, he should just tell them what to do. The best would be she just fell right into his path. Then he could take her to Im-what-he-said. Maybe she would find out in what part of Earth she had landed in.

She vaguely remembered reading an article about people wilfully being abducted, for the thrill of it. Maybe one of her friends had organized it, knowing she was looking for Mr Right. Maybe they thought Mr strange-voice-over-there would be just right and had paid him to do the part.

She really ought to say something then, but why did her back hurt so. She nodded forward this time, leaning on the horse's neck. And it was such a nice soft neck, too. Maybe she would go to sleep and wake up in her comfortable bed, with the glaring alarm clock shining 6:30 in red numbers, and everything would be just one nasty dream. She would have slept in an awkward position and that was why her back was so sore. And she could not feel her arm.

Yes that was the solution; she would just close her eyes and drift off to wake up. Oh and look, it was working already. She was slipping off the horse. Did one not usually wake up if one dreamed one was falling?

Reality unfortunately hit her hard in form of the floor she landed on. The extra thump on her already pounding back did not help and she unwillingly yelled in agony. She could not see, her vision was blurry as she fought what the normal reaction would be to such pain, unconsciousness.

She felt what, under different circumstances, would have been a soft touch, unlike that sadistic bastard who had squeezed her arm. Someone was propping her up. "..not right!" That was damn right, she thought, nothing was right. "..take Imlad…" Wherever, she thought, as long as the pain would stop. "…blood?" The voice asked, and it was directly above her. Blood, she thought panicking slightly, no way in hell was there blood. Shit, had she forgotten her period? Was the blood coming from her? Was it her back?

She heard a yell suddenly, but did not understand what was said and then hooves thundered on the ground, making it move painfully under her back. "Follow…!" She heard a different voice yell, similar to the strange voice but further away. "Quick…" The strange voice called then, "..back to Im…" Why could she not understand the name fully? Maybe she could figure out where she was then. But she did not care anymore if she knew were she was. She just wanted the pain to stop.

She felt like a child again. So very helpless. And then she was sick.

A/N: Thank you for reading


	3. Chapter 3 O clair de la lune

Fate 

**Chapter 3** O claire de la lune

_I dreamed I was watching the moon._

_I dreamed it was brighter than I had ever seen it._

_Everything was so still and yet so confusing._

She was back in her bed. It was soft and warm. And everything was as usual, until she moved. What had happen for her to be so very sore?

She was lying on her stomach she noticed. She never lay on her stomach. She tried rolling her head but all that happened was a searing pain that stopped her rolling her head before she started and a dull groan that escaped her throat.

She tried moving onto her side. It took her a long, very long time. Every centimetre she gained was won with pain. She laughed when she visualised this in her head. It was almost like in some cheap romance novel.

At that point she decided she would just stay on her stomach. Everything else was just too painful to try. So she took in what little of the room was to be seen. The wall on her left was white and covered with curtains, behind which she could make out the outlines of a landscape utterly unknown to her. A soft breeze was blowing making the curtains sway and an image of dancing came to her mind.

The bed she was lying in seemed to be rather large, at least that was what she perceived when she tried stretching out her right arm, though that did not work as well as she wished it would. The bed was made of dark brown, solid wood, though she could not tell what type of wood it was. Next to the bed was a small bedside table, made of the same wood, with a candle on it. It was rather pretty, she thought, the bedside table and the candle.

Other than that, she was unable to make out what was in the room. It seemed as though the whole world lay on the other side of the room. The part of room she was not able to see, due to certain disabilities to move effectively.

No doubt, she thought then, she was in a hotel room. It was nice and airy enough but the antique looking furniture made the room look very expensive. Though she liked her company they did not pay a lot for business trips. And which business trip was she on anyway?

She tried to remember as she stared at the curtains hiding what might be the view of the parking bay. The memories of the day before were hazy. She remembered going out of the house, a headache, a gang of some sort (all very dirty) and then… She could not quite recall.

What had she done? Well, travelled obviously, but when, for how long, where to and what had happened to the gang?

They had surrounded her. Had she been robbed? Had she been beaten up and now she was in hospital? But hospitals did not look like renaissance hotel rooms. And if it was a hospital where was all the medical equipment?

Frustrated by the lack of useful information her memory was giving her she automatically tried to turn her head to the other side. This movement however did not quite work since her muscles did not work properly. So due to the unexplainable pain she was experiencing her head got stuck in the pillow and oxygen seemed to evade the surroundings of her mouth and nose.

What a stupid way to die, she thought seeing stars leap into her vision. Suffocating because she could not move her head. She would have imagined herself dieing due to old age or maybe during some noble and heroic act, maybe saving a child from being hit by a train, but no she had to die because she could not move her damn head.

She started panicking as she realised that she really could not breath, and tried kicking and shouting. Kicking made her lose the last breath in her lungs and shouting turned into a groan of pain. Did one not lose one sight or consciousness if one had too little oxygen?

Just when she thought exactly that would happen, when the lack of air was painful, someone hauled her up and turned her onto her back. That process was both painful and relieving. Painful because her back was still sore and relieving because fresh air had never been so welcome in her life as in that moment.

"Are you alright?" A semi-familiar voice asked. Winded, she looked up. "Uhm," she said, and her voice cracked. It felt like she had not spoken in days and anything she had been wanting to say left her mind anyway when she looked into the semi-familiar voice's face.

There was not only something familiar about his voice but also about his eyes. She could definitely tell she had never seen his face before, but there was something in his eyes that felt so intimately familiar.

He lifted his eyebrows in a questioning manner, and amusement shone in his beautiful, captivating, familiar, and had she mentioned beautiful eyes. A soft chuckle carried over to her ears and she snapped out of her dazed state.

"I-I'm sorry," she croaked hoarsely, and her throat felt like she had swallowed sandpaper. His smile broadened but he did not say anything again.

She looked down at her hands for a moment and then up at the man again.

He was stunningly beautiful. Her sister would have called him a 'glittering' person. He had long brown hair, usually something she did not really find attractive in a male, and soft green eyes. His face was ornately carved and had a glowing tinge.

And as her eyes came across his mouth she unwillingly blushed at the path her thoughts were going. Suddenly something like recognition entered his eyes and the smile left his mouth. "Tuilindo?" he asked, and apprehension seemed to emanate from his posture.

"Excuse me?" she asked, slightly confused. She had never heard that word before and was sure she must have misunderstood him. "Yes, of course, of course," he muttered and abruptly got up. "Of course it is you." He glanced at her for a short moment and then sped out of the room. "Uhm," she uttered, bewildered at this reaction. Men had left her before, but never had they fled from her.

This was all very strange, she thought. Now she was lying on her back, a steady, dull pain was throbbing from somewhere between her shoulder blades, but still it was better than lying on her stomach. She had a good view of the room now. And it was not as large as she had thought it would.

From her bed, which was as large as she had thought it would be, it was only a few steps to the other wall. It was whitewashed and decorated only by a painting that looked like it came from the middle ages. There was a bit more space from the foot of the bed to the wall opposite where a small table had been placed with a bowl on it.

All in all, there was less room than she had anticipated and it was barer than she had expected. It was still a pretty room she thought just before the door to her left banged open and the semi-familiar man entered again.

"It has happened again, Adar," he called, and she was very confused this time. First Tui-something and now Ada. Maybe she was going crazy, she decided. She was in a hotel/hospital, goodness knows were, a man saves her life, then runs from the room only to run back five minutes later calling strange and unknown words.

If the pain, throbbing in her back, had not told her otherwise she would have believed the whole situation was a dream, a very bad dream. Did not dreams in which you were lost and could not move mean that you felt helpless in your everyday problems? And hell did she feel helpless, and scared.

She was slowly losing her patience, she noticed. It was not so much the fact that she did not know where she was, much more it was the fact that she had no idea how it had happened and why that man, who had come to stand directly next to her, was doing what he was doing. If he was speaking a language she could not understand, then it would be very difficult indeed to find her way back home. And she had always found her way back home.

"Tuilindo," he started again, "I knew you would return, I knew it would be so. I did not die, and it had a reason." She stared up at him. Those eyes that had seemed so familiar suddenly frightened her. "My son," a rather calm and commanding voice said, "You might want to leave now, I will send for you when the time is right."

She watched the struggle on the young man's face before he nodded and left the room. Once he had left she could see an older man, standing in the door. It was hard to explain, he did not look older and at the same time one just knew that he was so much older than he looked.

He wore a long robe, something she had only ever seen in movies before, and his hair was darker than the hair of the young man. His hair was neatly braided back and fell way past his shoulders. She just could not get used to this style. She did not mean to offend anyone, but if this was not some sort of theme park then everyone she had so far seen was mad, no not mad crazy or worse.

His grey eyes were fixed on her as he slowly stepped over to her bed. They were all crazy, she thought. He was going to kill her, or worse rape her. She winced at her thoughts, and strangely thought them to be stupid.

They had after all looked after her, or they were also patients of the hospital, which would be bad, she thought, because then her first track of thought would not be so unrealistic. She returned his gaze with what she hoped was a self-confident one and small smile showed around his mouth.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, and she felt deeply ashamed of her thoughts. If he was crazy, he at least was really nice. "Uhm," she tried, and her voice scratched terrible. Next to his smooth and calm voice she thought her' sounded like a saw on metal.

"Your back?" he asked and swiftly moved, no it was more like a gliding, she thought, to the other side of the bed. She was not even able to say 'uhm' before he had gently pushed her forward, with strength she had not expected, and was examining a place on her back next to her right shoulder.

It was only then that she noticed what she was wearing, or rather what not. She had been wearing a blouse, and a blazer of that she was pretty certain. But that was definitely not what she had on at that moment.

She could feel the straps of her bra pressing into her flesh and over that was what she presumed was a hospital coat. She also felt the pressing and probing fingers of the man touching the skin near the aching part of her back, it was not exactly what she thought was best way to meet someone new.

His hand left her back and propped her back onto the cushion. He then returned to the other side of the bed. "There is no infection, but it is always better to look anyway," he said, smiling at her openly this time. All right, she mused, either he was mad or the doctor, or both. She had heard of mad doctors being very good.

"Are you the assistant medical director?" She asked crocking almost like a frog. He raised an eyebrow and looked astonishingly like her grandfather when he thought she was going crazy again. "Excuse me?" he asked. Did one not know if one was the lead dog under the doctors usually? "A doctor?" She asked again, hoping he was merely a foreign doctor and therefore did not know some of the words.

He looked slightly bemused, like a grown man trying to figure out the words a little child a made up. This was becoming slightly frustrating, and she was not known for her patience. "Are you the guy who makes people better?" she asked for lack of a better wording.

He raised his eyes at her sentence but finally seemed to realise what she meant. "Aye," he said, chuckling and nodding at her, "I am Elrond, healer and lord of Imladris." Her expression stayed blank as she tried to sort the names into some sort of category she could deal with. Lord was an English title, she mused, so she had to be in England, but Elrond was no royal name she had heard before and Imladris was no part of England she had ever heard of or set foot on before.

Of course her geographical knowledge was not particularly good, and neither was her knowledge of royalty, but she was pretty certain she had no idea where she was exactly.

"I'm sorry," she said, trying and failing to trace the character in front of her in her memory, "but am I in England?"


	4. Chapter 4 Bona Nox

Fate Chapter 4 Bona Nox 

_I dreamed I was sitting alone._

_It was a starry night. _

_I dreamed I was at peace with the world._

_I dreamed I was happy._

She was not in England. She was not even in Europe. No, heck, she was not even in her world anymore. She felt like it was all a very, very bad dream. She must have eaten something bad the night before and now she was dreaming.

She felt a muscle twitch near her mouth, and she thought she would surly lose her mind. She stared up at Elrond who had just told her the shocking news. She could not say that it was the truth, because she could not believe that it was the truth. Who had ever heard of two worlds being mixed up? In reality at least she could not think of one account.

Fuck, she thought, fuck, fuck, fuck. Had that gang beaten her up so badly that she was now in some sort of coma? Was she doomed to live in some sort of dream because she had not been able to sleep one night?

No, she decided, she would just wake up. Wake up, she ordered herself. Wake the fuck up! It was not working. And worst of all, she was starting to forget what her flat looked like, her parents. She knew of course that there were still parents, family somewhere. A boss who was no doubt enraged by her not showing up at work. She could be lucky if she was not fired, unless of course she was lying in coma. Then maybe, if she woke up in time, she would be able to keep her job.

From the corner of her eye she could see Elrond, it was a weird name anyway, looking at her with a worried expression on his face. Humph, she thought. Why did she have to have a guy in weird clothes in her coma? She was sure Freud would have found an explanation. In her deepest, darkest corners of her fried brain she no doubt wanted sex with a guy in weird clothes.

Was it not always about sex when it came to Freud? But she did not think the guy in the weird clothes was worth thinking about sex. Sure he looked good, she thought, but he had an aura of wisdom, age and something grandfatherish, and that was not something she looked for in a guy. Not only that, she thought scrutinising Elrond through semi-shut eyes, no he had stuck pointy ear tops on his ears making him look like Spock from Star Trek.

Those were false ears, she wondered looking for the telltale colour difference between false and real ear. She could see none. Alright, she would just have to pull it off. She was after all in a coma, so it should work.

She tried to lean forward; it would not take far to reach his ear. Unfortunately, however, her back denied her this movement fiercely. Elrond looked startled, "You should not move. You have not healed enough yet."

She looked up again, after trying to bite back the pain that was pulsing in waves down her back. Could one feel pain in comas? "I have not healed enough yet?" she asked, not exactly wanting to hear the answer. Elrond raised an eyebrow as if she was asking an unnecessary question.

"My sons brought you here, after you had been left behind by group of slave traders. They had rammed an iron bolt into your back, an effective way of paralysing a person. It seems, however, they rammed it in too deeply. It severely damaged the muscle for you right arm. It would be a miracle if you could ever move it normally again." He looked grave.

Too much, she thought, it was just too much. She could not believe she was not anywhere near home anymore, and now she would not even be able to move her arm properly again. At least she knew that the robbers were real. But if the robbers were real, and one could only feel pain in reality, at least she believed it to be so, then either she was crazy, in her opinion the more likely option, or this was all really happening.

"I am dreaming," she murmured. Elrond looked sharply at her. "I am supposed to be in a country that does not exist in my world. I can only be dreaming." Maybe if she closed her eyes and opened them again she would find herself back in her cosy little room. Unfortunately when she opened them again, Elrond was still looking down at her a worried line on his forehead.

"I think I'll just sleep a bit right now," she said, closing her eyes again. Elrond must have agreed to that and left, because when she opened her eyes he was gone. Not that she had heard him leave, she had not even heard him enter the room, but she did not really care. She felt drained of all energy, she felt her back throbbing not very lightly, and she felt sick. How could she ever accept the fact that she was stuck in a world with weirdly dressed, pointy-eared guys that looked like it was still stuck in the Middle Ages?

She felt the first tear run down her cheek as the feeling of despair gripped her.

A/N: Thank you to all who reviewed. I'm sorry it's taken so long but I was in a lot of stress because of my finals at school but now it's over and hopefully I'll find a little more time to write. Thank you all.


	5. Chapter 5 Killer Queen

Fate 

**Chapter 5 **Killer Queen

_I dreamed I was an animal._

_I dreamed I was raging._

_I dreamed I was hurting everyone near me._

_I dreamed I was hurt._

Two weeks had past. Two weeks of utter confinement in which she spoke not one word, hoping that the pain in her back would recede and that any sign of proof would come her way to show she was just dreaming.

At the end of those two weeks, though, she had come to realise two things : 1) She had lost everything known to her, even if she was in a coma, which she still thought very likely. 2) Her back was not getting any better.

Both of these conclusions made her thoroughly bad tempered and downright calculating.

On the evening following those two weeks, the unfortunate young man who had saved her from her pillow decided to try and visit her again.

She sat gloomily in her bed and stared into nothing. A slight frown lined her lips and her eyebrows. She did not feel like lying in a bed anymore and was sure that had she been in a hospital she would have got a thrombosis injection already. A most unfortunate young girl, or elf though she was still guessing the weirdoes were dressing up, came in every morning with a breakfast tray and before giving it to her rubbed her legs thoroughly. Her legs were always very red afterwards and she could not help snapping at the unfortunate young girl. The girl however always ignored her and at the most smiled serenely and walked out.

Being around someone like that worsened her mood even more and she very badly wished to kick someone.

That evening at least the unfortunate young man would have his head bitten off.

He walked into the room cautiously, as she noticed, though she did not look up. His whole manner irritated her. From the corner of her eyes she could see him look at her curiously then take a chair and sit down.

She clenched her jaw and pointedly ignored him. He blinked a few times and kept on looking at her, obviously waiting for her to acknowledge his presence. She would not do him the favour. He coughed lightly in order to get her attention and that was when she made up her mind to kill him. Well no not kill him, she thought, but maybe torture him. Yes, that would mean more pleasure. She turned her eyes on him and noticed with pleasure that confusion settled on his face. "What do you want?" She asked with bitter cold in her voice.

This time the look of confusion was even more prominent on his face. She supposed he had suspected her to rage or to be silent, maybe cry but not to be like she was behaving now. She chuckled inwardly, good, she thought, the more surprise she inflicted the more she would hurt him. Maybe then someone would feel the way she felt.

"Well?" She asked, and her voice held an edge of inpatients. He raised an eyebrow, and she was instantly reminded of his father, who she was starting to resent as well. "I thought I would visit you," he said, and his voice hid no evidence of what he was feeling. This annoyed her even more.

She wanted to be in control of him. Make him feel what she wanted him to feel. Make him feel what she felt.

"Well how very nice of you," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. He seemed to have noticed that she did not mean what she had said, because a frown appeared on his forehead. He looked worried. "I can leave," he offered, and it seemed his worry grew.

"Now why would you do that?" She asked, and almost saw her own sneer grown on her face. She felt like a predator closing in on her pray. "If you do not feel comfortable in my presence," he started, "I shall leave immediately."

She started involuntarily, why on earth should he believe that she would feel uncomfortable in his presence, annoyed maybe but not uncomfortable. What was she forgetting? He seemed to notice her confusion, "Tuilindo, have you forgotten?" No duh, you idiot, she thought and was instantly annoyed at him again.

"Maybe my memory is faulty," she said, leaving out the curses she would have liked to through at his head, "but I have an excuse. Where is your excuse for not knowing that I am not Tui-something?" She snapped at him, and pressed her lips to a thin line. Both his eyebrows shot up at her words. "And which excuse would that be?" He asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking at her like a father would at a misbehaving child.

This annoyed her even more. He was still not reacting as he should. She would have wanted him to become all apologetic, knowing that she would never be able to use her arm again, or maybe become embarrassed because he had mistaken her for somebody else. But now he wanted to know her excuse?

She was in control, damn it! He had no right to barge in and treat her like a little child. And then it hit her why she was actually so mad at him. "You have no right to play with me!" she spat at him. His mouth curled into a knowing smile, and she blushed. He had caught her red-handed playing with him and had turned the tables.

"Who started the game?" He asked, and remained in that father-like position, looking down at her knowingly. From one moment to the next all her aggression vanished and she was left with a feeling of shame for having acted like a little child, she was after all 28 years old. And then she felt anger again. Even so he had no right to treat her like a child.

"I think I'm allowed to be a little bad tempered!" She clenched her jaws, "After all I'm not going to be able to use my arm again, and I've lost everything I know!" Even to her own ears that excuse sounded lame. It sounded to her like she was giving up. She had not made it that far in life just to give up. There were other possibilities, she knew that, and all the people here had treated her so well and she had behaved like a jerk.

She looked up, willing herself to apologise for her behaviour, when she saw the pity on his face. It looked like he was struggling with himself and, having come to some sort of conclusion, suddenly leaned forward and embraced her.

In that moment two things happened: 1) She knew her back was killing her, 2) She started crying, and realised that her excuse wasn't lame at all and that she was allowed to feel sorry for herself, because it wasn't easy loosing everything including the use of her right arm.


End file.
